


Pillow

by ceywoozle



Series: One Word Bottomjohn Prompts [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, PWP, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 15:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceywoozle/pseuds/ceywoozle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>part of the one word bottomjohn prompts series.</p><p>john should probably learn to keep his mouth shut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow

John is panting, panting, trying to breathe, trying to find the friction he needs. He’s so hard. So hard and he _aches_  and almost hates Sherlock. _Almost._  Almost hates him because he can feel those eyes on him, cold and smug and waiting, can picture him sitting there, his legs crossed at the knee, fingers steepled under his chin. Watching.

John is panting.

His arms hurt, his elbows are sore, the thin carpet offers no protection. Not after this long. His hips are gyrating, wildly and without control, and his penis, red and swollen and weeping, is getting sensitive, even against the velvet softness of the pillow he is rutting frantically into.

He is making noises. He knows he’s making noises, high pitched and wild, animalistic and uncontrolled. He can’t stop them. Directly in front of him, Sherlock’s long black shoe is tapping impatiently on the floor.

He’s getting sensitive. Far too sensitive. He knows he can’t keep this up. Knows he is losing this game, as he loses all their games. He tries to go faster, harder, but he knows it’s hopeless, and when that tapping foot stops tapping,  is joined by a second foot, when at the edge of his blurred awareness John watches Sherlock moving, Sherlock walking behind him, reaching down and with a large impatient, almost negligent hand thrusts a finger deep into John’s aching hole, he is both grateful and enraged as he comes, with a sudden cry that sounds too much like pain.

And afterwards, when Sherlock’s walking away, with a long low chuckle and softly spoken words—”What was that you said about not needing me?”—John lays on the floor and tries to breathe, watching as his come cools and dries on the wet and ruined pillow at his side.


End file.
